


Promise

by misspronounced



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm bad at tags, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspronounced/pseuds/misspronounced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian goes to find Mickey after Terry walking in on them. Mickey doesn't need a therapy session, he needs something else entirely. He just needs Ian. </p><p> </p><p>  <i> Something other than rage flickered for a second in both their eyes, it was a different kind of heat. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in season 3 right after Terry catches Ian and Mickey and their interaction after. I felt like both scenes where Ian finds Mickey in the abandoned buildings were too short. Here is what I would've liked to happen, kind of a mashup of the two scenes, but completely changed... anyway it'll make sense. Full of anger, love, and angst! Enjoy! :)

Ian was on top of one of the Southside’s abandoned buildings, thinking that Mickey had to be somewhere close. And on cue, two gunshots rang out, echoing through the building across the way. 

Sure enough, there Mickey was standing in the middle of the room, arms locked straight and hands gripping tighter than necessary on the handgun he was shooting. He didn’t move when Ian walked over to lean against a windowsill. “Hey,” Ian said lamely, only then did Mickey shift his weight on his feet then continued shooting at his target of broken liquor bottles. 

Mickey couldn’t stomach to even glance at Ian. Even though he hated that he thought it, it was true; Ian is the cause of all this, the reason why his worst nightmare of Terry finding out came to reality. His life would be a hell of a lot less complicated if a certain redhead weren’t apart of it. 

“So, uh, thanks to me, you’ve been pistol whipped and shot in the ass”, Ian said, having the balls to almost sound _proud_. Mickey continued with his plan of not acknowledging Ian. “I can’t stop thinking about it, what happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Mickey swallowed hard, hoping it didn’t look like he was responding to Ian’s worry. 

“Would you at least look at me?” Mickey flinched inwardly at Ian’s yelling, he would never admit that Ian could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Ian huffed, Mickey was aware that he started moving, but he didn’t dare look. Mickey jumped when he felt the hard impact of a hand on his shoulder, causing him to misfire and shoot the ground. Mickey broke his silence, “what the fuck, Gallagher!” He didn’t care how loud he was or how close he was to Ian’s face. 

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been tryna talk to you,” Ian answered, his jaw clenched and now leering over Mickey. 

Mickey stared right back into Ian’s eyes, almost challenging him to do something. He would much rather have Ian beat the shit out of him than have Ian pity him, he was not one to be worried about. Ian didn’t make a move; just raised his eyebrows waiting for a response from Mickey, and for some reason Mickey remembered then just how much his left temple throbbed from getting pistol whipped. 

“Don’t feel like fucking talking,” Mickey spat at Ian, backing away and crossed the room to lean out a window. Ian was one of the few people who weren’t afraid of Mickey and his impulsive rage. He didn’t know whether or not to be impressed by Ian’s blatant stupidity of challenging him and especially with a gun in his hand. Especially now. 

“You don’t get it, do you, Mick?” Ian yelled across the room, his voice bouncing off the walls, making it louder. “Your dad is doing this. Not me. You don’t get to treat me like shit for this!”

That made Mickey snap, he flung the gun across the room, hitting a wall with a clang. He stormed up to Ian, fisting a hand in his shirt and pushing him backwards until his back hit a wall with a hard thud. That nearly knocked the wind out of Ian and his eyes widened in anger and surprise. 

“I know perfectly well what my dad has done, I don’t need a fucking reminder,” Mickey hissed at Ian, tightening the hand in Ian’s shirt. 

“I don’t deserve this,” Ian responded with just as much bite. Mickey’s eyes narrowed, not believing just how selfish Ian was being, or he was being, he wasn't too sure at that point. 

Mickey’s eyebrows rose incredulously, “my father made me fuck a Russian whore and to make it more fun he made you watch as he held you at gunpoint.” There was fire in Mickey’s eyes as he talked through gritted teeth. “I don’t need a fucking therapy session. I can deal with this however I damn well please.” 

“I just want to help,” Ian pleaded in a low apologetic voice. Mickey ripped his hand from Ian’s shirt and took a step back, eye’s still fixed on Ian. 

“I don’t need help. And I don’t need you.” Mickey’s voice was venomous, aiming to hurt Ian, so he would finally see that they aren’t good together. That whatever they have will only end in disaster. 

Mickey knew exactly how to make Ian angry in a matter of seconds, and Mickey smirked when he saw that anger flare up in Ian’s eyes. Then something other than rage flickered for a second in both their eyes, it was a different kind of heat. They would have called it lust before but now it was more than that; desire, they were hungry with greed, and pure need. 

Their lips crashed hard, almost painfully as they felt teeth biting and invading tongues. Both trying to taste more, feel more, get more than they ever could from each other. They grunted in frustration as if they weren’t getting what they wanted. It was more than just being able to touch and ravish each other; they didn’t have the freedom to be together fully and that is what they’re so desperate for. 

Mickey tore at Ian’s jeans, undoing the button and zipper pushing them down just enough to shove his hand in and rub roughly at Ian’s hard-on through his boxers. “Fuck me, Gallagher. I need you to fuck me hard,” Mickey said roughly into Ian’s jaw. A deep moan escaped Ian’s throat at Mickey’s words. Ian made quick of getting Mickey’s jeans and boxers off and pulling him tight against himself, making Mickey gasp at the friction on his dick. 

Ian turned them around so Mickey’s back was against the wall. They struggled getting Ian’s pants and boxers down to his knees, at that point if they thought if they disconnected their mouths they would die. Making their hips grind hard against each other, grunting and moaning louder, scratching painfully, and holding onto one another with bruising grips. 

Ian hesitated, pulled back to look in Mickey’s eyes, “I don’t have anything-”. 

“I don’t fucking care, firecrotch. I just need-“, Mickey said breathlessly pulling at Ian’s neck to meet his lips. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you right now,” he said between kisses. 

“But, Mick, I don’t-”, Ian fretted. Ian didn’t really think fucking Mickey dry was a good way of coping with whole dad-making-him-fuck-a-prostitute-in-front-of-him thing. That and he didn’t want this to be another painful sexual experience, especially with him. 

Mickey heard the worry in Ian’s voice and stilled his hips and tried to reassure him with his eyes. “Ian, I want you, I need this. Please, I promise you I want this. I need to be in control,” Mickey pleaded, this was how he would get control back, by asking Ian to take him in such a raw way, and for Ian to just know and do this for him. 

Ian grabbed the sides of Mickey’s face and kissed him hard, as if sealing an unspoken promise to Mickey that with him, he would never lose control, that he would take of him any way he needed. Ian broke the kiss and let out a breath, “Put your arms around my neck and hold unto my shoulders, Mick”. As soon as Mickey complied he grabbed his thighs and lifted him up and held him against the wall wrapping Mickey’s legs tight around his waist. “This okay?” Ian asked into Mickey’s temple. 

“Fuck _yeah_ ,” Mickey moaned, which made Ian impossibly harder. Ian put two fingers up to Mickey’s mouth and he instantly opened, sucking and licking until Ian pulled them out and brought them to Mickey’s entrance. Ian pushed his two fingers into Mickey and slowly fucked him, making sure he could prevent as much pain as possible.

Just as Ian was about to add a third finger, Mickey was squirming, “I’m ready, Gallagher, do it now,” Mickey commanded. 

Ian pulled his fingers out and guided himself into Mickey, both letting out a strangled moan. Ian replaced his hand under Mickey’s thigh so he could properly thrust into him. After a few slow thrusts, he felt Mickey trying to push himself up, and Ian got the hint, so he began thrusting harder. He knew when he hit Mickey’s prostate because be stopped moving and gasped. It didn’t take long after that, while Ian was fucking Mickey hard and fast into the wall he pressed his stomach against Mickey’s dick to add some friction to finish him. Mickey came with a shout, making a mess of both their shirts. Mickey slumped boneless against Ian with his forehead against Ian’s shoulder, and with his remaining energy clenched around Ian, making him come inside him just seconds later. 

Ian let go of Mickey’s legs and caught himself on the wall catching his breath and getting the feeling back in his arms. 

“Shit, Gallagher,” Mickey said breathlessly as he wiped some come that dripped down his leg. Ian just chuckled and gave Mickey a wink, “something to remember me by”. 

After they got their pants back on and caught their breath, they met each other’s eyes, looking solemn and somehow knowing that this could be the last time. The last time they share a moment like this. 

“Mick-“ Ian started, not knowing what he was going to say, but felt as if he needed to say something. 

“Hey, nothing’s gonna change,” Mickey assured him, both knowing that it was lie. But Mickey pulled Ian close and hugged him tight, and Ian wanted nothing more than for Mickey to be right. 

Ian pulled back just enough to look into Mickey's eyes, “I lov-“.

“No- don’t,” Mickey interrupted Ian gruffly, squeezing his neck painfully. “I can’t.” 

Ian let out a shaky breath knowing that Mickey meant that he couldn’t love him; and of course Ian would fall for a guy that would refuse him, that was afraid of loving him back. Then Mickey stretched to whisper in his ear, “not now,” promising Ian something he wasn't quite sure of. 

Ian wound his arms around Mickey’s body and held on tight like his life depended on it and Mickey held on just as tightly. Ian felt dampness on his neck where Mickey’s face was buried and knew he couldn’t do anything. Whatever's going to happen with Mickey’s father, he knew he was powerless. It was up to Mickey solely, and that scared him more than anything.

But right now, it was just them, two broken boys wrapped together, eventually to be pulled apart again due to the fucked up world they lived in.


End file.
